Beautiful
by Mondie
Summary: Mush has to come to grips with the death of a beloved friend during the harshest season of them all, and he may only succeed with the help of a spirited girl. **Christmas fluff! Yay!**
1. walkin' in a winter wonderland

[Beautiful (The Christmas Gift)]

[by Mondie]

Merry Christmas, everybody.

Disclaimer: No newsies from Disney's wondrous movie belong to me. I'm not getting any money from this. There is no point in suing me. So let's not, eh?

[Chapter One: Walkin' In a Winter Wonderland]

            Mush sighed, kicking at an ugly clump of snow. He hated winter. The same emotion was usually carried by the other newsboys, but this year seemed different for them. Headlines had been very well-written the past few weeks, and sales had been up. Mush was the only one who still stayed firmly opposed to the snowy fortress of Mistress Winter. The wind had never blown so bitterly before, and he'd never had icicles dripping from his eyes before, either. It seemed that his feet were connected directly to his heart, and every step he took jerked his beating necessity further to a pulp. He'd never felt this way before, so angry at the world that a permanent sneer distorted his face.

            Kid Blink was dead.

            It was the first winter since turning six that he'd spent without his best friend at his side. Two weeks had passed since the repulsive circumstance, where a little skirmish between Manhattan and the Bowery had crescendoed to the deaths of seven boys. Six of them had been from the Bowery. Kid Blink had been the only Manhattan boy to not return that night.

            Mush didn't sleep in the lodging house anymore. He didn't want to sell papers any longer, and so he hadn't been able to afford Kloppman's steeply rising, now twenty cents per week (as opposed to the fifteen cents per week it had been previously) charge. Gas lights cast a soft glow upon the glistening cobblestones, as if trying to brighten Mush's mood, but they failed. The merriment Kid Blink had always been able to solicit from the winking light caught in ice and the pearls residing in snow now seemed to mock his memory.

            Walking softly into Central Park, the only sound the snow compacting beneath the thin soles of his worn boots, Mush lowered his head from the swirling snow which hurtled down from the heavens. Flakes caught upon his eyelashes, so that every time he blinked, a line of diamonds fell and then rose, curtaining his view. The purity and youth reflected in the crystals angered Mush. He stalked, determined to no longer pay attention to the beauty of the harsh reality of Winter, toward the pond. Watching the ice skaters had always been one of Mush's favorite pastimes, and one of the few things that he passionately liked about December.

            Lanterns had been set up to fend against the narrowly escaping sunlight, as evening set. Mush sat down on a nearby bench to watch the five teenagers on the ice. The girls wore long skirts and kept their dainty hands warm and dry inside their muffs. There were two boys, who wore heavy coats and thick wool scarves over their faces, so that only their eyes and a tuft of hair were visible. The boys were doing fancy tricks to impress the girls, crossing their legs mid-stride and shifting around so that they could skate backwards. As the boys showed off, the girls shrieked and giggled, their different octaves reminding Mush of church bells.

            "Hey!" one of the girls suddenly shouted, her voice deliciously light. Flakes were stuck in her dark brown hair, making it look as if she had a bonnet of a fine white linen on. "Who's ready to go home for some tea?"

            "I am!" called back a boy with a shock of red hair sticking out all over the place. "It's sure getting chilly out here." He skated over to the girl and winked at her, pulling her off the ice with him. She giggled, looking up at him in adoration. The lantern light caught in her eyes, turning them to golden pools with unspeakable depth.

            The boy with light brown hair similarly latched onto the girl with the straight honey blonde hair, and led her to a bench which sat about five feet away from Mush, where the other couple had already sat down. The four began to pull off their skates, which were just blades connected to a piece of wood that buckled over their normal boots. "Maddy!" called the blonde girl, blowing on her fingers, newly fetched from the oven of her muff, to keep up their temperature. "C'mon!"

            One last girl was on the ice, and she seemingly couldn't hear the coaxing plea. Maddy was spinning, lost in her own world, her stride graceful and poise intoxicating. Mush lost interest in the four teenagers now off the ice, but couldn't tear his eyes from this last girl. She had dark brown hair, much like the first girl. It was long and ended in soft curls which peeked out from beneath the scarf she'd tied over the top of her head. Her cloak was dark green satin, and her muff matched. When she twirled, the cloak opened slightly, to reveal a deep pink skirt.

            "Maddy!" tried the blonde girl again, this time a little less friendly. "It's co-o-old!"

            "Come on," said the boy with the red hair, looking at Maddy in exasperation. "Let's start walking off. She'll follow for sure then." He picked up his skates and one of the lanterns, and walked off slowly, holding the arm of his brunette girl. The other couple shrugged and followed them. Maddy didn't seem to notice their exit, or, if she did, she didn't seem to care. She continued to swirl about the ice, and the snow coming down on Mush no longer seemed ominous and heartless, but rather an accessory to her beauty.

            The sun had completely set by now, and as there was only one more lantern to light her way, she came to realize that she was alone. With a bit of a relaxed sigh, she skated to the edge of the pond, and came stomping through the snow to the benches. The skates, which had brought her such a refined elegance upon the ice, now caused her to shuffle along, looking very unsophisticated indeed. She caught sight of Mush, and it seemed to startle her. Then her face broke its frozen mold into a very becoming smile.

            "Hi, I'm Madeline," she said, sitting next to him on the bench.

            "Yer frien's left," he said bluntly, feeling quite awkward next to such refinement.

            "Oh, no, actually. Not really 'friends.' The boy with the brown hair is my older brother, and the girl with hair like mine is my younger sister." She began to unbuckle her skates.

            "Oh. I t'ink dey're goin' back ta yer house, then," he said helpfully. He tried not to stare at her, but she was even more beautiful up close. She had a round face, and when she smiled, her cheeks balled up into cheery roses.

            "Oh, I know," she said. "They usually end up leaving me here. I'll tell you something," she said confidentially, and leaned closer to him. Her breath made clouds rise, with finesse, to the sky. "There is nothing I like more in the whole world than skating." She leaned back, as if satisfied that this was a very good secret. "Do you skate?"

            Mush shook his head. "Don' know how," he mumbled. Then he brightened. "I love ta watch it, though."

            "Hmm. Well, perhaps I'll have to teach you how, then," she smiled. "Where do you live? Close by?"

            Mush had been contemplating spending the night on this very bench, so he allowed himself a wry smile. "Yeah, purddy close," he agreed.

            "You're lucky," she sighed. "I'm going to have quite a walk ahead of me, because I'm sure they've taken the carriage and left by now. Amanda gets so _cold." She rolled her eyes at Amanda's lack of strength against Winter's angry wrath. "And we've only got two horses this year, both of which are used for the carriage, so I can't even ride one out here myself." She stood and walked a few feet away, fetching the last lantern. She looped her arm through the iron ring that topped it, then draped her ice skates, buckled together into a bit of a sling, over top of that. She then hurriedly shoved her hands back into their muff. "How about we walk together, at least as far as your house?"_

            Mush stood as well. "I'll jus' walk ya home, Madeline," he answered. "Da city ain' no place fer a goil ta walk t'rough alone."

            She smiled at him. "Why, thank you, …" She trailed off. "I didn't catch your name?"

            Mush stared at her for a moment. "Dat's not impor'ant," he answered, feeling foolish. He was, under no circumstances, going to tell her that he was called 'Mush.'

            Madeline looked startled at this answer. "Why, of course it's important! How will I know what to call you?"

            Mush shrugged. "Make somethin' up, I s'pose."

            She laughed. "You're an odd fellow, I must say. How about…" She surveyed him for a moment, then nodded to herself and began walking off. Mush had to rush to catch up to her sure strides. When she was sure he'd caught up, she turned to him with her large smile. "I'm going to call you Beautiful."

            Mush nearly laughed aloud; somehow, Beautiful was hardly better than Mush. He choked back his laughter and picked up his pace. "Fine."

            "Really?" Her face lit up. "That's the first time anyone's ever let me call them that…"

            He laughed this time, unable to keep it in. "Oh, you call people by dis partic'lar nickname often?"

            She stopped at the entrance of Central Park. The street lamps flooded their soft yellow light upon her features, making her gray eyes dance. "No," she answered softly. "Only when they really _are beautiful."_

            Mush felt a bit of a blush crossing his cheek, and turned swiftly and, this time, led _her away. Much of the rest of the walk to her house was in amiable chatter, with silent snow compounding heavy upon their shoulders._

            Outside a tavern, the bartender was shouting loudly at a figure slumped into a snowdrift. "Stay outta me bar, ya heah me?" His brandished arm shook, trembling along with his heavy Irish accent.

            Mush recognized the drunk man, and had to smile. Mike. He was always getting thrown out of bars; usually they let him stay far later, though. The tavern owner let out an exaggerated noise of complaint, then stormed back into the bar, slamming the heavy door behind him.

            "Hey, you!" Mike slurred, struggling to sit up. He pointed a finger at Mush. "Where's… where's yer friend? Blondie?"

            Mush felt a lump tighten in his throat, and, horrified, he hurried to steer Madeline clear of Mike. Mike continued screaming at Mush, asking him where 'Blondie' was. The rest of the walk to Madeline's was in silence. Mush's thoughts were heavy with the absence of 'Blondie,' or Kid Blink, and wondering how he could have gone so long with worrying only about Madeline and not the fact that Kid Blink wasn't here anymore. He felt horribly guilty. He could practically sense Kid Blink looking down from heaven, shaking his head in wonder that after just a few short weeks, Mush was back to chasing skirts and had already forgotten the memory of the friend he'd loved as a brother.

            Mush was so wrapped up in his thoughts that he was three houses past Madeline's before he realized that she'd stopped. He jogged back to her, his heart heavy.

            "Do you still want to learn how to ice skate, Beautiful?" Madeline asked, a bit dully. It was only then that Mush realized that she too had fallen silent after Mike's outlandish outburst.

            "Yeah, that'd be nice," Mush said, trying to sound excited. "T'anks fer doin' this fer me."

            "Oh, it's my pleasure!" Madeline answered, sounding a bit more upbeat. "Where's your house? So I can call on you the next time we go skating?"

            "I'll be at da park," Mush answered. He gave a huge smile. "I always am in da winteh."

            She looked a bit suspicious, but shrugged it off. She bit her lower lip. The silence between them seemed to stretch forever. Mush shoved his freezing cold hands into his pockets, shifting his weight from his heels to the balls of his feet.

            "Well, then," Mush said, giving her a bit of a smile. He wondered if his bench would still be vacant when he returned to the park.

            "Yeah," she said, averting her eyes from his gaze. Then, in a single, slick move, she moved forward and kissed his cheek lightly. Giving a bit of an uneasy giggle, she then moved to enter the gate separating the street from her house.

            "Night, Madeline," he called, a large grin darting upon his lips. He turned to leave.

            "Beautiful?" Her uncertain tone made him turn back to look at her. She shrugged at her own bravado, then squared her shoulders. "About Blondie… is she pretty?"

            Mush looked confused for a moment, then gave an unbelieving snort of laughter. "Maddy, Blondie… he's my brother."

            "Oh!" She looked taken aback. "Well, then."

            "G'night, Maddy."

            "Good night, Beautiful."

            On the way back to Central Park, Mush made certain to punch Mike extra-hard on the shoulder. Somehow, he thought Kid Blink would have approved. He'd always hated being called Blondie.

_Sleigh bells ring; are ya listenin'?  
In the lane, snow is glistenin'  
A beautiful sight, we're happy tonight  
Walkin' in a winter wonderland_


	2. god rest ye merry, gentlemen

Thank you to my reviewers… sorry that you're not getting proper shoutouts… but I love each and every one of you anyway and your comments made me so happy!! :D Merry Christmas to all of y'all. Heh. Thanks to… **Hotshot, Ali, Crunch, Keeeeeeeeeezah, Fyre Eye, Derby, Falco Conlon, Broadway, Hottie5Star, misprint, Rumor, SparksdaNewsie, Aki, Ireland O'Reily, **and** Shaders.** **Mondie hands a snow-covered newsie who needs to be cuddled and warmed to each of the reviewers, along with a convenient hot tub to do the warming in**

[Beautiful (The Christmas Gift)]

[by Mondie]

[Chapter Two: God Rest Ye Merry, Gentlemen]

            Mush's bench was still unoccupied when at last he returned to it. He shivered, pulling his torn tweed jacket tighter around him, but an unusual smile was perched precariously upon his blue lips. It was a cold, strange winter, but he hadn't felt this warm in weeks.

            Knowing that the next day would undoubtedly bring much more of the same incidents of the past few weeks (dodging newsboys and their gossiping tongues alike), Mush forced himself into an unconscious sleep. Still, it was long before dawn that he awoke.

            He sat up, staring out at the ice-covered pond, in a bit of a half-asleep stupor. He let out a large yawn, stretching his arms high above his head. Wondering if he could possibly fall back asleep and then wake up again before the bulls caught him for sleeping in the park, he was definitely ready to curl back up when his arm hit something quite solid on his side.

            "Oomph!" a voice said disdainfully. "Watch it, huh?"

            Mush nodded. "Sorry," he said sleepily, not paying all that much attention. He then realized that no one had been there a moment earlier, and looked over. Racetrack was hunched over, biting angrily into his cigar. The cigar was lit, which was strange for Racetrack (who tended to carry around unlit cigars for show), and the perfume wafting over Mush made him feel even sleepier yet. "Heya, Race," he said. "How's it rollin'?"

            Racetrack bit even more ferociously into the end of the cigar for a full minute before finally answering. "Why's ya out heah in da park, Mush?"

            Mush shrugged. "I don' got da money for da lodgin' house no mores." He gazed out at the pond moodily.

            Racetrack let out a biting laugh. "Yeah, me eiddah. I bet it _all yestahday. They played me like a fool, Mush!" He angrily beat upon his legs with his hands, then crossed his arms across his chest and leaned back huffily. "Peteh gave me dis tip, an' I's been heahin' t'ings fer a while about da hoss he was talkin' 'bout, anyhow. So I decided ta bet it all, so den when I won an' got me money back doubled, I'd be able ta get presents fer all da liddle newsies who still believe in Santy Claus." He gave a snort of disgust, and put the cigar back in his mouth and inhaled deeply. "An' now look at me. Out heah. Say, ya wanna come sneak wit' me inta da lodgin' house? I'se bettin' Kloppy won' even realize we haven' paid."_

            Mush shook his head. "I'se can' go back in dere, Race."

            "Why not—" Racetrack started to ask, then caught himself. "Oh. Blink. Sorry, Mush."

            Mush shook his head. "It ain't yer fault," he said.

            "But come on back anyhow," Race insisted, climbing to his feet. "It's too cold, Mush. An' all da fellas'd be really happy ta see ya. We was all wonderin' wheah ya been. I shoulda guessed Central Park… dis is da on'y place ya like in da winteh."

            "I don' wanna go back in dere, Racetrack Higgins," Mush said stubbornly, not falling for the bait of nostalgia Racetrack was offering. "An' don' you dare t'ink yer gonna make me."

            Ten minutes later, as the two boys were sneaking up the rickety wooden staircase of the lodging house, Mush was wondering just _how Race had gotten him to come. He never ceased to be amazed at the boy's undeniable way of manipulating people to his favor. Every time one of the stairs of the unstable flight would creak, the boys would freeze, their faces contorting into grotesque masks as they imagined Mr. Kloppman barging out of his bedroom and catching them. Luckily, though, either Mr. Kloppman was too deaf or he was just a very heavy sleeper, and the duo made it upstairs without getting attacked by a senile old man jabbing his walking stick._

            Mush's usual bunk had been taken by Snitch, and he stared at the sandy-haired boy with a bitter taste in his mouth for a moment. All of the bunks had a sleeping boy in them already. Racetrack had woken up Bumlets and was now climbing onto the other half of his bunk, letting out a gratified groan once Bumlets had shared his coarse sheet. "Ah, heaven," Race moaned, burying his face in his arms and trying to avoid Bumlets' cold feet, which were next to his face.

            Mush wasn't sure who to wake up, because his only close friend left (besides Race and Bumlets) was Crutchy, and Crutchy never shared his bunk with anyone. He always explained that it was because his leg got jarred too easily and if someone were to hit him wrong, it could do even more damage than was already done. Nobody believed him, though, and thought that instead he just wanted his bunk to himself. Mush was friends with other newsies, but not enough to wake them up from their precious hours of sleep and insist they share their bunk with him. He again looked yearningly from his old bunk to where Racetrack's head was propped up upon the footboard of Bumlets' bed. Race's eyes were shut firmly, and a slight snore was already issuing from his lips.

            Sighing, Mush settled down in a corner, glad at least that it was a bit warmer in the lodging house than out in the cold. He made a halfhearted note to himself that it didn't feel any warmer than it had in years past, even though that had been Kloppman's excuse for increasing the weekly price. Then his eyes drooped drowsily, and, pulling his legs tight to his chest, he fell to sleep.

            "Hey… Mush. Wake up." Mush opened his eyes a little while later and blinked. He wondered instantly what time it was, because pale yellow sunshine was dripping in through the ice's lace on the window and shining upon him.

            "Yeah, yeah, I'm up," he grumbled, rubbing at his eyes harshly. He caught sight of the person who had awoken him, and gave a start. "Ah!" he shouted, scooting backwards. "Who are you?"

            "It's me… Blink," Kid Blink answered. "Don'tcha know yer own best friend an' bruddah, Mush?"

            Mush shook his head frantically. "But yer dead," he said. He stretched out his hand towards the image of his blond friend, thinking him a ghost. Mush had never met a ghost before, but Boots had met at least twenty, at least the way Boots told it. "Are you a ghost?"

            His hand struck Kid Blink's leg, and didn't go through it. He could feel the bone through the trousers that decorated his leg. Kid Blink laughed. "No, I ain't no ghost… an' I'se _really not dead."_

            Mush looked a bit confused. "Yes, you are. Da fight wit' da Bowery. Remembeh? You died."

            Kid Blink snorted and rolled his one visible eye, looking very much the way Mush remembered him. "Oh, git past dat, won'tcha?" he said, mock-crossly. "I mean in a not-lidderal way. Ya know, like a puzzle."

            An indignant look crossed Mush's face. "I ain' Davey, you know dat! I can't figger out no puzzle."

            Kid Blink sat down across from Mush, crossing his legs Indian-style. "Well, le's jus' put it dis way. We're in a dream right now. You'se'll wake up any time, so dere's somet'in' I's gotta give you foist." He held out his hand, and immediately upon it laid a minuscule piece of grayish-white paper. Mush took the folded paper doubtfully, though he completely believed Kid Blink's statement that he was dreaming.

            "I gotta go now," Kid Blink told him, standing again. Before leaving, he turned with a smile and said, "Good luck wit' dat Madeline goil. She shore is purddy."

            "Ya don' mind?" Mush asked. "Dat I'se not always mournin' yer passin' an' all?" He felt foolish for asking this, but knew he had to hear it from dream-Kid Blink, if he couldn't hear it straight from Kid Blink himself.

            Kid Blink shook his head. "Don'tcha know me betteh dan dat at all?" he asked, sounding a bit sad and a little amused at the same time. "I jus' want ya ta be happy, Mush. An' Madeline… she's gorgeous."

            "But you on'y died two weeks ago," Mush answered.

            "But maybe I's havin' da time a' me life… eh, afteh-life… in heaven. Wha' do you know?" Kid Blink challenged, raising his eyebrows.

            "I jus' feel so guilty," Mush confessed, turning the paper over and over between his hands. "I mean, wit' yer passin' so soon an' all."

            "Look, do ya _wanna lose da goil?" Kid Blink asked, looking a bit angry. "Stop arguin' wit' me, okay? Or else I might not get ta come visitcha in uddah dreams. So don' woirry abou' me. I'se doin' fine, an' I don' t'ink any less a' ya fer goin' aftah Madeline. Jesus, ya bum. Yer so __sensitive. Why d'ya care so much abou' ev'ryone else, huh? Ya need ta cut that out." He laughed loudly, then began jabbing Mush's arms._

            "Hey!" Mush protested, punching his best friend back.

            "MUSH! What da hell is ya doin' in dis lodgin' house? You didn' pay ta sleep heah! RACETRACK! Same goes fer you! Get up, get up, get up! Get yer lazy heads downstairs befoah I call da bulls!" Mush opened his eyes, though they ached in protest, and shook his head to try and clear his thoughts. The turtle-like elderly man was glaring at him as he sat, alone, in his corner. Kid Blink was gone.

            Skittery sighed loudly. "Kloppy, go eat yer tongue. It's Christmas, fer God's sake."

            "Don' bring God inta dis!" Mr. Kloppman answered angrily, poking his walking stick into Mush's side for good measure.

            "God's already inta dis, Kloppy," answered Jack, sounding serious. "Ya t'ink dat God likes da fact dat yer tryin' ta kick out two poor defenseless boys inta da cold?"

            Mr. Kloppman let out an irritated whistle. "Ya t'ink God's happy dat dese two snuck in undeh me very nose an' is gonna get away wit' it?"

            Jack jumped down from his bunk, putting his arm around the withered old man's shoulders. "Be da biggah man, Kloppy. _Be da biggah man." He led Mr. Kloppman to the stairs, and shoved him politely through the doorway, then closing the door behind him._

            "Good job, Jack," praised Boots, leaping from his bunk and racing for the washroom. "I call da foist sink!"

            The next ten minutes were complete mayhem, as boys were roused and prepared for their day. The first ten minutes after being awoken were always Mush's favorite moments of the day, because nobody had been awake long enough to be in a bad mood, and jokes and merriment were well dispersed. Today's joke seemed to be the horrible flip Skittery's hair had chosen to embody after being slept on wrong. He was trying desperately to flatten it with help from water and a comb missing half of its teeth.

            "Ah, go soak yerself!" he finally yelled to the room of boys, discouraged by the lack of cooperation on behalf of his hair. "I'se jus' gonna wear me cap anyhow."

            Mush hadn't moved from his corner, and with good reason. He had been startled to realize that his fist was clenching something when he awoke, and even more baffled to find that it was a folded piece of grayish-white paper. Upon unfolding it, he had discovered Kid Blink's messy printing, spelling the following message out in bold block letters:

**HEY MUSH. DON'T FORGIT THAT EVEN BROTHARS HAVE TA LET GO OF EACH OTHUR SUMTIMES. BUT WE WILL ALWAYZ BE TAGETHER IN YER MEMERYS. YOU WERE ALWAYZ THA BEST FRIEND I EVRE HAD. DON'T FORGIT, BUT DON'T SPEND YER WHOLE LIFE SAD, EITHAR. LOVE, KID BLINK.**

            Mush leaned heavily upon the wall he was sitting against, and felt that if he were an alcoholic, he would need a swig of beer right then. He didn't know how to explain this turn of events, even to himself.

            The loud sounds erupting from the washroom emitted themselves back into his ears, and he pocketed the paper quickly before slipping into the washroom with his friends, who were now attempting to convince Skittery to wear his pink undershirt as a veil under his cap to hide his misbehaving hair.

_God rest ye merry, gentlemen  
Let nothing you dismay  
Remember Christ our Savior  
Was born on Christmas day  
To save us all from Satan's power_

_When we were gone astray  
Oh, tidings of comfort and joy  
Comfort and joy_

_Oh, tidings of comfort and joy._


End file.
